Silent Tears
by Le Petite Libellule
Summary: Christine has been embraced by Madame Giry after years of suffering. Being employed to the Phantom may not only cause drama, but sparks of passion. Will the wandering child finally be found within the obsessed composer known as the Phantom?
1. Lost Love

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Chapter 1 – Lost Love

[I do not own Phantom of the Opera, in any sort of way. I enjoy the characters, and use my imagination to place them in a different situation and story.]

**Summary**: Christine Daae is a wandering child, looking for purpose once more. After 10 years of being alone within this world, she is embraced by Madame Giry and her daughter Meg. She is taken to a mysterious manor where an even more mysterious Lord resides within it. He is the current owner of the Paris Opera House, and seems to be known as the Phantom to all those who love to gossip. Will Erik's obsession with music be found within Christine? Will Christine finally find the Angel of Music she has been seeking for?

* * *

_"Papa, please do not leave me..." _

_A whimper had escaped the dainty looking girl that shuddered with grief and melancholy. Her petite fingers curled around a much larger hand, that seemed lifeless and white as stone. _

_Tears stained the rouge colored cheeks of the child. Her eyes could not produce anymore tears, as the bottom of her eye lids were puffed up slightly; it would wound ones heart to see such a painful expression upon an innocent girl. _

_Lightly tinted sapphire eyes did not conceal the swirling emotions as they could not pry away from the older male that did not budge from the little girls cries, "Papa..." She beckoned once more, hoping her pure voice would awaken the man, but he was not part of her world anymore. _

_Her Father, offered her hope and love through his music. He was Gustave Daae, a world renowned musician. His fingers were nimble against a violin, that always seemed to capture ones heart and desire. He shared his gift with his young daughter, Christine, who took pride in sharing her voice with his beautiful music, but that was all gone now. _

_She knew her Father was ill, but she never could imagine his life being taken away! The sudden thought struck her as she felt the curling fingers of her housekeeper, "Come young mistress." Her voice was saddened with the passing of the Lord of the house, for he was a good man, and would never treat her as a lesser person, even though her status was less than his. It did not do her old heart well when the young girl would not listen to her demand, "Come away child!" It was not healthy for a girl of her age to see her dead Father for so long. Christine continued to cry out, long before the older woman with streaks of gray, swept up in a bun, took hold of her arm and forced her out of the room. Christine watched as the doctor approached her Fathers body, the door closing behind him, "Papa!"_

* * *

The memory haunted her within her dream, reliving that painful moment where all she loved within this world, vanished right before her eyes.

She could not recall the last time she woke up with tears in her eyes. The two piercing sapphire orbs were glazed with tears, that threatened to fall. It had been 10 years since her Father passed away, and she was now a grown woman.

The once little girl that dreamed of a fantasy world, filled with music and enchantment, was thrusted into the harsh reality of Paris, France.

Her Mother had passed during childbirth, but her Father did his best to keep her memory alive, and never placing blame on his dear child. He watched her grow, and filled her head with dreams. Singing was always a passion of hers, and he wanted her to pursue it, once she was of age.

She was sent to an orphanage for some time. She hated the horrid place, but could do nothing to stop the torment and cruelty of the head Mistress. She forced the children to clean floors, and would beat them if they spoke against her, or refused the back breaking work. Somehow, she had found the good graces of the nasty woman, and survived 10 long years. She was saved by one simple letter...

* * *

_Mon Cheri,_

_It has been so long since I have seen your beautiful face! Forgive me for not being able to reach you all these years. I am truly sorry for the passing of your beloved Father, may God rest his soul. I had no idea what kind of turmoil that put you through. Do not fret anymore, for I shall accept you as my own. I always thought of you as a daughter, and it took a lot out of me to leave you and your Father in Paris, while me and Meg moved to London to seek work. She misses you dearly, and so do I, but I hope you can forgive my negligence, and not realizing what you have gone through in these past 10 years. Our Lord of the household I currently work at, is moving to Paris, and is willing to allow me to take you into his home, but I warn you, you must work and listen to him. I know that must be strange to you, but I know it is much better to be around a loving environment, rather than a cold one. I shall pick you up around eight in a fortnight. I pray that we can rekindle from all the lost years, and that your dream may finally come true._

_Sincerely,_

_Madame Giry_

* * *

Christine's breath caught within her throat as she read the letter last night, not sure how to take it all in.

She was recognizing the forgotten memories she pushed back in her mind, and realized that Madame Giry was a mother to her, and her daughter, her best friend. Lord knew she needed that love more than anything else in the world.

It was hard for her to sleep that night.

The dream of her Father's death caused her to toss and turn until she woke up with tears in her eyes, but it was all over now. She could finally live life with a smile upon her face, rather than continuing her god-forsaken life here at the orphanage.

It would be hard to bid farewell to the few friends she had, but she was glad that the Angel of Music was now watching her. It must have been tired of her fear and pain, and finally granted her happiness.

"Thank you." She simply muttered as she prepared for the day, hoping that time would pass by quickly.


	2. A Welcoming Embrace

**Chapter 2 – A Welcoming Embrace**

The carriage was unsettling along the cobblestone street, "God almighty." A shrill voice rung within the confinements of the dark carriage, but a few glimmers caught here and there, carving out a face riddled with age.

Two pursed lips and emerald eyes that sheltered malice, yet wisdom. Her silk like hair was strung back into a tight bun, but even age could not escape this once beautiful woman. Her nose was pointed upwards slightly as she stuck her face out into the night air, seeing the uneven stones that caused her to mutter under her breath.

"Oh Mother, please! No use in complaining...this truly is not the best part of town. Poor Christine..." Another woman could be seen within the shadows of the carriage, as the passing moonlight shined upon a younger woman.

The hue she bore within her eyes matched the older woman perfectly, as well as her nose, but it was a bit more petite and cute, rather than frightening and bold.

Her golden hair was swept up in a messy bun, not putting much care in how it looked, but it did not shield the natural beauty the woman had, "I cannot wait to see her!" Meg's voice was tad too high, but she always seemed to tone it down when necessary.

As if by command, the carriage came to an abrupt stop as Madame Giry cussed under her breath, "Mother!" Meg yelled out as her Mother just rolled her eyes, "Hush now." She silenced her daughter as the stern woman exited the carriage, the driver opening the door in a quick manner.

Her jaw dropped immediately as saw the torn building before her. Moss grew around the sides, creeping into the broken bricks. Windows were cracked, and nothing seemed to be welcoming, "Oh my..." She merely muttered as she stared directly at the wooden door, looking as if it was about to fall out of its own hinges!

Meg was quick to react as well as she aided her Mother towards the door, her cane provided most of the assistance, "Here goes nothing." Madame Giry muttered as she knocked upon the door.

She heard voices booming before her.

She took a step back as both of the woman stared directly at the head Mistress.

Nothing could be said about the woman who was obviously not beautiful in any matter. Her tattered dress was stained with god-knows-what, and her crimson hair was all over the place!

And her face was stained with age and stress; wrinkles seemed to inhabit every inch of her face.

She scoffed at the two finely dress women, not even saying anything, "Take her." Was all she spoke as she retreated from the door, leaving a young woman standing before the two.

"Hello Madame Giry. Hello Meg."

Her voice rung like a bell as she was quickly embraced by the two women, tears of joy and forgotten years staining their faces.

The moment was savored for a few moments, letting the passing emotions come and go, but it was Madame Giry who pulled away first.

Her slim finger ran under her eye, wiping away the last of her tears, "Come along now Christine." She said with a mother-like tone, letting her free hand slip to Christine's shoulder in a comforting way.

Meg pulled away as well, grasping her friends hand, "Oh, Christine! Everything shall be well now." She squealed with joy, trying to transform the atmosphere in a more positive tone.

"Of course." The brunette simple responded with a small smile, actually letting a little emotion come fourth from her withered soul.

It took a matter of minutes for all three women to return back to the carriage, where it quickly pulled away from the dilapidated building; all her fears and suffering would be now gone, right?

Madame Giry and Meg did not mean to stare, but they could not help themselves! Questions filled their minds, wanting answers from Christine. She had blossomed into a beautiful woman, but it felt as if the orphanage, the lack of love, changed her completely.

She looked like a wandering soul, seeking some sort of help.

Madame Giry was glad that she wasted no more time to retrieve her new daughter, "Now child." She moved with a slow adjustment as she now just sat inches away from Christine, "I will do my best to assure you the full happiness you deserve. I shall not push you to do anything, but I must warn you, the work ahead of you is not easy, but it is a better life than none. Love shall be surrounded by you once more." The older woman's sagged cheeks pushed slightly upwards, revealing a tender smile.

Meg responded quickly with an illuminating smile, her teeth glistening within the passing moonlight, "Don't worry Christine! I am sure that I can aid you once in a while." She gave a wink, causing her friend to chuckle softly.

"Thank you once more Madame Giry and Meg. This does mean a lot to me." Her voice was almost emotionless as she continued to speak, "I am sure that the manor is a very welcoming place."

Christine was almost stunned in how she had sounded.

Where was the happiness her voice once held?

Was she not the child who would sing from her heart?

All of that seemed to fade over the years, and Christine never took note of it, until now. She knew her singing had ceased since her Father's death, but her emotions seemed to be locked away as well. Even with the few friends she had at the orphanage, they were not family. Her Father was the center of her life, and she was thrusted into a labyrinth that seemed to have no exit. Perhaps having a family once more, she can find the solution through their love, and unlock those emotions that seemed to die along with her Father.

Madame Giry and Meg spoke no more as the three fell into silence. They did not need any more words to understand what kind of situation at hand.

The once smiling little girl that Christine used to be, died over the years, which concerned Madame Giry more than anything else. She had no idea such a toll would be taken on the child. She would now make it her duty to see that beautiful smile, and draw back Christine from her forgotten world.

* * *

Moonlight masked the carriage, but lead as a path towards the grand manor.

Christine had always been a curious girl, and took the chance to see Paris for all its beauty. The orphanage was located on the outer most level of Paris, which was usually slums. She had lived in Paris all her life, but never traveled towards the heart of the city of wonder and enchantment. Her eyes could not peel away from the chattering of high Parisians. Their dresses were of every color, almost intoxicating to her eyes! She could not help but imagine herself in such a gown, but that was a fleeting thought. She could never be a princess, but the maid who would pick up after the princess. The sudden thought caused her to sink back into her seat as she stared at the ground.

The carriage came to a halt as Madame Giry and Meg gave long and satisfied sighs, "Finally." Meg commented as she was the first to exit the carriage, wanting to stretch her legs.

Madame Giry just have a reassuring smile to Christine as she too followed her daughter, using her arm and the carriage driver's arm for support.

Christine was hesitant when she finally came out of the carriage. Her eyes could not take in all that was before her. The manor was magnificent! It was grand and powerful, showing authority to all the buildings around it; one would bow before the majesty of the building. She took in the little details here and there, seeing the carvings and designs. Gothic features were present among the front of the manor. She did not even take notice of the frightening iron gates that surrounded the adobe.

A slight chill ran along her spine, and a whisper came fourth to her, almost beckoning to her. She knew that there was no voice, but it was as if the house was calling for her. Madame Giry's hand pulled her out of her trance,

"Welcome to Lord Erik's Manor."

_[Reviews are always welcomed! 3]_


	3. A New Home

**Chapter 3 – A New Home**

Midnight had concealed the foyer, but Christine's eyes were keen to all around her. She used the simple illumination of the moonlight that trickled through the clear glass of the multiple windows that surrounded her. She would expect the sunlight in the early mornings to warm the room, but the chill that ran down her spine just a few moments before was still present. The windows would provide light for the room, but not life. She felt as if the foyer was merely for show, and nothing else. Perhaps smiling servants could provide a heart-felt welcome, but that was it.

Madame Giry allowed the girl to view the room, watching as her eyes traced along the marble flooring, etched with designs. Elaborate swirls took her eyes for a moment, before following the endless maze until she reached a staircase. She was taken back from the simple transportation up another level. The rails were lined with the finest of oak; she longed to feel the smooth surface, but would have to wait patiently for now.

Her curious eyes continued to wander upwards as she grew speechless of the beautiful balcony that made up the center piece for the winding staircase. However, the left staircase seemed to have a twin. An exact replica of the staircase she had just studied was now on the right side, winding up to meet the center balcony-like spot. She took a step, trying to get more of what was around her.

She squinted her eyes every so often to catch the little details here and there. Meg had to hold back a small chuckle that was threatening to come fourth, "You haven't seen anything yet." She quickly mused to her curious friend. She waited for Christine to pry her eyes from the room before her, and to her friends exotic eyes. Meg merely glanced upwards, and Christine's eyes obeyed.

Her jaw dropped slightly as she saw a grand chandelier hovering over them. It was unique in a sense, even though she had seen many chandeliers when she was young, but not something as so breathtaking as this. She was not sure what drew it to her, but she would not question it. The golden rings sprouted out like a tree with mighty branches, holding ivory candles with much care. The crystals danced along the gold, adding the final touch. She could not imagine what kind of light the masterpiece would provide for the silent room, but she was sure it was astonishing to all the senses.

Madame Giry could not help but smile of the growing curiosity that was held within Christine's eyes. She seemed to step out of her own element briefly, before snapping back into reality with a slight crimson blush adorning her high cheek-bones, "Forgive me for being rude." She whispered to the two, not wanting them to continue losing sleep because of her child-like manner.

Madame Giry merely chuckled at the girl's response and quickly nodded her head, "It is quite alright my dear. There shall be more time to explore when daylight breaks. For now, lets show you your room, and get you settled in." Madame Giry motioned for the carriage driver to carry Christine's items for her. She had a simple bag that was tattered and torn, holding the little clothing she had left in the world. The question of her Father's wealth came to the ballet mistresses' mind for a moment, before retreating, _"Another day..."_ She spoke within her mind, not wanting to raise any unnecessary questions...for now.

Slow movements commenced as Christine followed Madame Giry and Meg up the left staircase. She felt blessed to even let her fingers run along something as simple as the rail. The support somehow eased her mind in an odd way. She felt as if there were more pieces of the unexplored house that would provide further assistance to her down trod mind.

The footsteps fell silent to the floor, where exotic looking rugs made up most of their pathway. Christine could not help but continue to feast upon all that was around her. She was amazed to see such bold colors come together to create a scene just below her feet. These rugs could not have been crafted here in France, but some far off land. Her eyes continued to dance along all that was around here, taking note of the various tapestries that adorned the corridor walls. She knew she had to memorize where exactly she was going, but she was just taken back from the beauty that continued to surround her. She did not even think as she blurted out, "Lord Erik has a wonderful taste in art." She complimented her new Lord as Madame Giry turned quickly around, "Yes, he does."

The four stopped in front of a door that held no unique qualities, for there was dozen of doors lined across each side of the corridor.

"This is where you shall stay." Madame Giry quickly chimed in, grabbing Christine's bag from the carriage driver, "That shall be all Henri." The driver merely nodded before making his way off to his own room to rest for the night.

Christine stared at the door, and was a bit hesitant to open the door, entering an unknown room that would soon become her own little sanctuary, "Make yourself at home Christine. Meg's room is just down the hall. If you need her, go seek her, but for now, get some rest." The old woman's cane met the floor silently as she stepped forward and placed a small kiss on her forehead, using another mother-like gesture to assure the safety that Christine had here. Meg smiled at her Mother's action as she waved, "Sweet dreams Christine. I shall claim you in the morning." Another wink was added to the mischievous ballet dancer.

Christine just stared in awe at the two, feeling blessed to have such comfort once more, "Goodnight." She spoke softly as the two began to disappear in the darkness. The flickering flame vanished around a bend as Madame Giry disappeared with the little source of light that lit their path. She had to grow accustom to noticing when others grabbed something, such as a candle to light a dark path. She was so absorbed within her own world that she completely forgot where she was for a few minutes.

She was within the confinements of a great Lord, and knew she could not be the way she was acting. She could not imagine if he caught her day-dreaming when she was suppose to do work! He seemed kind though, allowing servants such as Madame Giry and Meg to have such lovely gowns to wear. He also had to have some sort of taste in art, for his walls were littered with beautiful paintings and sculptures of dancing women.

Christine had always appreciated art, and she was glad that she shared some sort of interest with the Lord, but it had been so very long. Singing was always her favorite, but every so often she would enjoy a good Gothic novel, or sketch a blooming flower. She admits to not having a knack for drawing, but singing and reading were always her favorite past times, but she was limited back at the orphanage. She could not recall the last time she picked up a book, or sheet music. Her Father was the one to provide the things that she held a passion for, but the head mistress of her orphanage did not want silly thoughts filling the children's heads.

She needed to pinch herself when she searched through her mind and recalled thoughts or memories. She was still standing before her door, looking like a fool! She wasted no more time as her fragile hand took the golden knob and turned it slightly. The door swung open as she stepped into her new room, quickly closing the door behind her.

Her eyes were as round as saucers as she saw the haven before her. It was rather simple, but exquisite in her eyes. The room was much larger than her last room, and had a very cozy feel to it. A bed stretched across the wall to the right of her. It looked very welcoming, and Christine will allow the comfort to take over her weary body in just a few moments.

She approached a small bureau to the left of her, next to a small table and chair where a single mirror was perched upon the smooth surface. She dare not even look at herself, knowing she was a mess. Her wild brown curls must have sprung from all different directions. She did not want to attend to her unruly hair, well, not until morning.

She opened the top drawer of the bureau as she prepared to stuff the little clothing she had, but she was surprised to see a few working gowns already dormant, "Oh." She was surprised to see such gowns already within her drawers, "I hope they fit." She chimed to herself, knowing that some dresses did not flatter her. Her body was a bit unique compared to other high Parisians, but she need not to be bothered by that, for she was a maid now, not a wealthy patron of the arts.

She was quick to stuff the clothing she had into another drawer, and closed it ever so slowly. The day was beginning to take a toll on her as she quickly stripped from her maroon colored gown that served as her favorite article of clothing. She had found it one day in a trash bin, and could not help but take it and mend the gown. The head mistress did not question her, but would always comment how she wanted to regain her once proud status; she never wore it after that point. She would often wear the dress on special occasions, but those were few and rare. She let the gown slip from her body and a simple night gown now adorned her body. It took no more time to reach her bed where sleep quickly consumed her before she even hit the pillow.

* * *

_A little Christine was envisioned in her mind. A bouquet of flowers were held in the girl's shaking hands. A black dress and veil were revealed as the image became much more clearer. Tears stained the child's cheeks, and true melancholy came fourth in her bright eyes._

_"Papa."_

_The girl crumpled to the ground in an instant. The flowers were flung out of her hands as her cries increased in volume, but a voice rung within her ears._

_"Wandering child, so lost, so helpless, yearning for my guidance..."_

_Christine looked up and saw a dark figure come fourth and offer a hand to her. A sudden transformation turned the child into a woman. Christine now stood before the figure that seduced her with his voice,_

_"Touch me...Trust me..."_

_He beckoned for her once more as she felt his other hand wrap around her waist, pulling her to his broad chest. It was hard to see the man masked in shadows, but his voice caused her to melt within his arms. The voice held such comfort, but ever so tempting; it was as if this figure was the forbidden fruit itself, or the snake that tempted her to do the unthinkable._

_Her tears had vanished and the figure's voice rung within her ears once more, speaking to her, placing her under his final spell._

_ "My Angel..."_

* * *

The dream came to an abrupt stop as the vision quickly vanished, leaving Christine back in the real world. Her pants were light as her eyes shot open, the sunlight slightly blinding her.

She was confused beyond belief as she sat up in bed, adjusting herself in a more suitable sitting position.

"Who was that...?"

_[Thank you for the wonderful reviews! It gives me great joy to have such helpful support to continue my first P.O.T.O fanfiction!]_


	4. Haunting Memories

**Chapter 4 – Haunting Memories**

_[A little take on our dear Phantom. Enjoy!]_

The Phantom of the Opera. A name bestowed upon a legend, a ghost of mystery, a man of madness.

The title suited him fairly well. He always concealed himself within the shadows of the world, but somehow his name spread far and wide. His fearsome role dominated Paris' society. Gossip always circulated about the new production at the Paris Opera House, and he made sure that his audience were captivated by the words he bled over for hours.

He always wanted the audience leaving for more, which was a skill he had mastered for years as a composer. It not only brought attention to his beloved operas, but brought wealth as well. He knew he was too bold to do something such as buying the Opera House altogether, but he was glad that the architecture has not failed him yet.

It was strange to have such a benefactor buying the opera house, but the singers and dancers did not question it. His instructions were precise and direct, making sure that he was the one who had control over the opera house. He always had to have an iron grip on anything he possessed, especially the one thing that causes him happiness in the world.

The ensemble should have been blessed to have a genius allowing them success, but all that came out of the unknown owner was a name.

It started as a mindless joke passed among the ballet dancers, but it soon escalated into something greater. It was rare to not hear The Phantom's name in casual conversations. Paris was a city moving forward. New styles graced women's bodies, and men enjoyed simpler things in life. Someone, or something that did not venture out into this new era was a fool. The Phantom made sure that no one ever saw his face, which is why he caused quite a stir in society.

There was a reason for his isolation.

Erik knew he could not partake in the many wonders of life, for he was placed with a burden. No. A curse that spat upon him and mocked him.

Monster. Freak. Corpse.

Names that came with his curse. It was hard for him to not forget his true name, a human name, rather than branding him with demonic titles.

He was not sure how he prevailed through his prison physically and mentally. He knew that he was not going to let others step on him any longer. Developing a gruesome attitude towards the world, his anger expanded to a frightening level. Blood stained his hands, and he was no cower to that fact. Erik was ready to face the world through a different tactic. He was always an intelligent man, but as a child, he was naïve, but he broke away from that horrid child and emerged an obsessive man.

He would have gone insane in this world, always planning their demise, but something had saved his god-forsaken soul: music.

He always devoured literature as a child, back within his household when his Mother let him enjoy a few pleasures in life, and he came across a book on opera. His Mother never provided him any sort of instrument, or let him leave the house to even attend an opera. Erik amused himself by creating devices that would intrigue any inventor, but music, was something that caught him by surprise.

A musical score was provided as an example in the opera book. He was perplexed by the notes, and longed to know what they sounded like.

He never asked much from his Mother, but a piano would suffice his curiosity. She allowed it, but threatened to take it away if she heard sour notes; she did not want to tolerate any more ugliness in her home.

He was hesitant as he stood before the piano.

Not sure how to approach it, he extended his arm outwards and pressed an ivory key. He stopped. The simple note echoed, embedding it in his mind and soul. His eyes widened at the thought of being able to combine other notes to create something magnificent. It took him an hour at most to make the keys dance before his fingers, begging him to touch them. Even his Mother came in at one point and commented on what a fast learner he was; this is where the obsession began.

He would spend days in and out, learning to read sheet music and directing his own self to provide a musical serenade.

His Mother took some pride in her son's work as she provided more books for him, letting his soul consume the sheet music before him. She would often listen to his music from her own room, but never granted her son an audience. It was another distraction for him to have, and another activity to keep him away from her.

Erik could not stop his fingers, and even began to form his own melodies. Words came fourth now and then, and he would eagerly write it down on some parchment. He would often say the words in his mind, but one afternoon, a few words came from his mouth, but managed to match the piano's notes.

He was stunned to even hear such a voice.

Singing would never have been something he would want to do, but it added to the enchantment of the piano, and he yearned to create the beauty of music through his songs. He was bewildered at first, but let his natural talent shine through.

This is where his Mother had to put her foot down.

An abomination such as her son could not have such an angelic voice! She tried to push the fact that he could have been a musical genius with his piano skills, but his voice was too much for her to handle. She knew no good could from the child, and she knew he was a devil, masquerading as an angel, trying to reach that point through his music.

The emotions that formed within her were forbidden.

He had to be manipulating her mind! She burst into his room, never even stepping foot into his sanctuary before that moment. She was furious and praying for her own soul, and condemning him to Hell. Erik was still so young and vulnerable, and watched as his Mother began to tear apart his beloved sheet music, and take any papers she could find.

Left alone in his room, he felt as if the world finally closed in on him, as if he opened his eyes for the first time. His mind ran on music alone, and his Mother could no longer be of service to him. He tried to make her happy, trying to make her see past his face, but it seemed to backfire.

It took all the courage he could seek within him as he finally fled from his prison.

He often regrets leaving his Mother, leaving the safety of his room. It was not long for him to be captured by a traveling gypsy caravan, and forced to put his face on display. His Mother never allowed mirrors in his house, always afraid of the reflection she would see. She did her best to avoid him, but made sure that Erik knew of his curse. He always brushed the thought aside, not realizing how truly gruesome his face was.

Mirrors taunted him by crowds of people. Their image of him could be foreseen through their horrified glances. Laughter often crept in here and there, along with some rotten food. He was allowed the liberty of having a potato bag to be placed over his head every so often, that is, if the leader of the gypsies did not take it away from him and replace it with a whip. It always added amusement to the crowd to have the boy flogged, giving him a step closer to Hell.

No more. The suffering needed to stop, and Erik was numb for too long. A spare rope was in his reach, and his knowledge of rope tying came to his rescue. A Punjab lasso was created, and hidden among the straw that served as his bed in his cage. All it took was the gypsy to have his pride hurt when Erik jeered at him with questionable comments. The man's face flashed crimson as he grabbed a hold of the whip, threatening the boy to stop or he would make sure that he would become a real corpse. Erik stood his ground as he jumped on the gypsy, strapping his secret weapon around his neck.

One swift movement, and the man's neck was snapped.

Murderer was now a name to be added to his never ending list of damnation. He was quick to leave his cage and to wander into the twilight, leaving the gypsy caravan to mourn over their leader and search for the killer.

He was just a lad, and could not be able to survive on his own. His feet did little for him as he was brought to the streets of Paris.

Confused and frightened, he crept between the shadows of allies, until a beacon of illumination drew his lost soul to its path. The Paris Opera House. Majestic golden angel statues dominated the Gothic architecture. Their arms outstretched, longing for him to be embraced by their welcoming arms.

He was in a trance instantly as he heard music drift into the streets. Passing couples did not even glance in its direction, which irritated for him, for they could not understand true beauty that is allowed in this world.

The boy made sure that wandering eyes did not make his way as he came closer and closer to everlasting allure of the Paris Opera House.

He was slightly blinded by the bright illumination that made up the foyer. Taking a few hesitant steps, ever so carefully, he let his weary body float when making contact with the stairs. He knew that his ugliness should not tarnish the elegance of the opera house, but the music that continued to sweep over him was too much. Music had no gender, and no physicality. All were welcomed to be part of its majesty, even if it was a demon yearning for a chance of heaven.

The theater could have easily seated hundreds upon hundreds of people, but that did not matter to him at the moment. Upon the glowing stage, chorus girls held position as ballet dancers commenced, using the ensemble as their rhythm, and letting the grace of the music be formed through the human body.

Erik was astounded to see such an act, and felt blessed to even have his eyes casted upon the glory of opera.

Of course, there were a few sour notes here and there, but he was a perfectionist, and could not help but notice. He did not allow that little moment to ruin the joy he felt. It was hard to describe the emotion, but for once in his life, he felt right. He knew this was his purpose in life. Composing music, and letting others show the true potential of his abilities.

The chorus members and orchestra slowly slipped from his sight as a few ballet dancers now graced the stage, even their costumes left him breathless! He craved for more. This opera house had everything he wanted, and prayed that they would allow his presence to be joined within the lifestyle.

Erik continued to let the dimming lights conceal himself. Just as everyone left for their dormitories, he did the unthinkable.

His feet moved with such haste, that he was out of breath as he stood on the opera's stage. His eyes had adjusted to darkness over the years, and did not miss the details that surrounded him. He let his fingers gingerly touch the velvet curtain. He touched anything his hands could get on. His eyes, never seemed to stop moving, but they stopped abruptly as he noticed a figure moving towards him.

Golden orbs pierced through her. It had to be some creature stalking the stage, for no human could have such powerful eyes.

Antoinette gazed through the darkness, following the alluring hue that begged for her to acknowledge them. Erik was taken aback to stare right at a ballet dancer. She seemed much older than he, perhaps, seven or so years. He was reluctant to approach her, but she took the first steps that would soon become a flourishing friendship.

Antoinette felt pity for the boy, and did her best to hide him within the hidden catacombs of the opera house. Mostly used for storage, Erik somehow made a suitable home for himself, and used it as a sort of playground.

Antoinette would visit at least twice a day to provide a meal, and a few encouraging words. She brought clothing, and treated him well. She admits to being frightened of his scarred face, but her Mother taught her well. She was told to always see beyond someone, and to rebel against the image statements established in Parisian society; she was quite a free spirit.

The young boy listened to the operas throughout each season, continuing to heighten his knowledge of opera. A piano was not easy to come by, but a remarkable discovery caused him to almost reveal himself.

A grand organ.

It matched a piano in some sense, but pipes came out of the instrument. Dust covered the organ, and the wood was beginning to splinter, but it did not stop him. He had to make sure that all was silent in the theater, and that the ballet dancers went off to dream.

This was the time where his soul can be awakened.

The organ vibrations shook the walls around him as he played. His hidden room had a beautiful echoing range, and often stayed in the room, not traveling up to the surface. However, a few notes here and there would serve as a sweet lullaby that casted the dancers to sleep, or caused them to shake within their beds.

The music was haunting as it reflected his tormented soul.

As Erik turned the tender age of twenty, Antoinette suffered a leg injury which left her career in the balance. She was the prima ballerina for the opera house, but they needed to let her go. It was a crushing moment for his dear friend. He knew she had the choice to leave him at the opera house to fend for himself, or to take him with her.

The young man did not wish to pry in her life any longer, but the ballerina did not shy away from the man as she invited him to another world where he would be able to play his music as long as he wanted.

Antoinette was married a fews years after, and settled in a simple apartment with her husband, Jules Giry. A flat was rented out to Erik where he was able to live on his own, but not too far from his friend who was beginning to start her own family. It was hard to not feel jealous, and he often hated himself for thinking such thoughts against Antoinette, but she had the ability to love someone...

Madame Giry could not watch over him anymore, and his obsession soon became his own priority in life.

He was not sure what caused him to travel to London, but he thought that he could be reborn anew there. Madame Giry's knowledge was limited on what exactly Erik did over in London, but she did not hear any news of a deformed man walking the streets. She would write a letter often, but hardly did she receive anything back. It was when grief shattered her soul that she would return to her lost friend.

Jules Giry passed from a strange illness, leaving Madame Giry with a young child, and no aid for the growing girl. She was forced to leave her home for so many years, and seeked shelter. She did not want to burden Erik, but he was all she had left in the world. It did her heart well to hear that he was willing to accept her and the child into his household.

She was surprised to see such a man before her, with a more frightening demeanor. A white porcelain mask etched the right side of his face, and the young boy she knew before, had become a man. A man unafraid to take the world into the palm of his hand, and manipulate it to his will.

_[Thank you for the reviews once again!]_


	5. Hard Work

**Chapter 5 – Hard Work**

Christine could not push away the dream, that vivid image that continued to course through her mind. She struggled to even get out of bed when she heard a light tap upon her door; Meg had been calling her for some time.

"One moment." She would always reply, already frazzled, and her day had hardly begun!

The brunette somehow tumbled out of bed with the little grace she had, almost falling straight to the floor. Her comforter was thrown off in such haste, that she almost tangled herself within the soft comfort. The overpowering material was close to consuming the petite woman.

She rushed to the point where her mind could not even focus on one task. She made her bed neatly, fluffing her pillows, although it would do her little good for the restless night she would expect when midnight came...

The already late maid stripped off her nightgown, not even bothering to fold it as she covered her shaken body with a simple dress that was of a light beige color that shaped her body perfectly, which surprised her, "Oh my." She commented softly to herself as Meg's voice continued to call out for her, "Christine! You must hurry!"

She had to get her head straight, or she would surely fail!

She wanted to prove to Madame Giry that she could work for the gratitude she received. It had to take a lot of courage to even ask the Lord of the manor to allow other servants within his household, but Christine felt as if there was a deeper level to the relationship of Madame and Lord Erik.

The two women had such elegant dresses when they came to greet her, _"He must spoil them."_ She commented once more, before she turned her head, seeing Meg standing with a puzzled expression.

The blond was quick to aid her friend who now made her way towards the little mirror provided in her room. Her fingers already submerged into the never ending tight curls, "I see you still fret about that hair." She chirped.

Christine could not help but allow a smile to come fourth, recalling memories of her and Meg as little girls. Meg always wanted hair that could be played with, but had straight, short hair that could do little for her amusement. Christine always had her friends crafty fingers strung with the curls, trying to create simple up-dos as they pretend to be princesses that were meant to meet the prince at the ball.

Meg could see the reflection of forgotten memories pooling within Christine's eyes. She would have loved to just chat with her, and to learn what has happened to her while the two friends were separated all these years, but there was work to be done. Perhaps, when night came, she could sneak out of her room and begin to rekindle the relationship they both shared.

The ballet dancer did not have rehearsal today, so, she had to work and now had the task of teaching Christine how the manor works. Christine stood before her, ready to face anything that could be thrown at her. She was not sure how hectic life was around her, but upholding a manor as extravagant as this must take a lot of time, especially if it was only Madame and Meg as the sole servants, but she highly doubted that.

"What exactly am I to do first?"

Christine questioned as Meg began to walk out of the room, hoping to not waste any more time.

"Well..."

She stopped for a moment as she let Christine close the door behind them.

"I think a tour should be first."

She added her mischievous wink as Christine chuckled with the gesture.

"Are you sure that is alright? I mean, I do not wish to waste time if there is work to be done..."

"The cooks are just preparing Lord Erik's breakfast. We have an hour or so to explore before we are needed to clean."

The mention of Lord Erik's name intrigued Christine. She wanted to pursue the topic of her mysterious Lord, but thought it was out of place to do such a thing, but she had a dangerous curiosity, which would be the death of her, she swore it.

"When shall we see him? Do I need to introduce myself?"

Meg's back arched a bit too quickly, creating a strain from the sudden force. She had straightened her back in a rather cold way, causing Christine to bite her lower lip.

"Forgive me..." She mumbled as Meg tried to relax somewhat, but the mention of Erik always caused her to react in such a way.

"It is alright Christine. He will meet you if he wants to. He usually keeps himself occupied in his room, always at work. He often makes appearances, but it is very rare. Do not count on it my friend."

Christine found it odd how her friend reacted to her, but it was her fault. It was wrong of her to act in such a rash way, but she was just curious. He had to be a good man for allowing her to stay, but he most likely could not deny Madame. He must have felt pity for her, and was willing to allow one more person to live here, but he probably did not care for the whole situation.

It did her heart little to comprehend the fact that Lord Erik most likely would not care for her, not like he cared for Madame and Meg. She knew that they both meant something to him, but she wasn't exactly sure, and she would not pry that away. She had to be thankful for what had transpired last night, but that little voice will always bark questions at her, demanding answers. She would learn to control that little voice, and hopefully not do anything foolish.

She nodded to Meg who tried to lighten the mood, "Anyways, it is nice to have a bit of freedom, and not get scolded for it." She added a little smile, to help ease Christine.

Christine knew her friend meant well, and would not have that irritating voice ruin her one chance of happiness, "I am sure. Where is the first stop?" Meg pondered for a moment, before intertwining her arm with Christine's, "How about the kitchen? Oh! Then we can go to the ballroom, and then the garden, and the library...!" Her voice drifted away momentarily as her feet automatically followed Meg's rhythm.

* * *

Sleepless nights would soon come back to haunt him. His body could not possibly sustain anymore hours, but he was almost complete with the first act of his new opera. The title was not yet decided, but his fingers could not possibly stop with the thought of losing the image that burned in his mind. The story of the forbidden love came to him one night in a dream, and he felt compelled to write music for it. He usually was not one to have such a romantic theme, but something different might do him well for once.

His quill paused momentarily as he noticed how numb his fingers truly had become. The parchment before him was just the third page of the final song for act one, and there would be two more acts to join his masterpiece. Paper littered the desk before him, torn in half, or crumpled up.

His fingers trembled slightly as he finally layed down his writing instrument, trying to let the blood flow back. It was bad enough that he had the lack of sleep, but straining his back and fingers could do no good for him, but it was worth it. It was worth to imagine his operas envisioned in his mind, and write with all his heart, mind, and soul. He could unleash a new kind of power through his music, putting people to their knees and listening to whatever he says.

Two chapped lips parted slightly, revealing a sinful smile. The thought always amused him, even when it took a lot out of him to even withhold a smile. The lack of water would most likely take its toll in time, it already began at his lips, and his voice needed some sort of moisture to keep up with his forceful demands he inflicts on himself.

The grandfather clock chimed with a little tune that he himself programmed within it. He always enjoyed taking things apart, and seeing how it works. He turned his attention to the time, knowing that he would get his breakfast in mere moments.

He was slow to rise from his chair, making sure he did not mess any of his work before him. He did not have the ability to find things when he moves them. He need not worry for any maids wandering in, for he would punish them severely, not even Madame Giry was allowed.

This was the only place where he can truly isolate himself without prying eyes.

His servants obeyed him, always. They knew what he was capable of, but they truly never do anything to raise his anger. It would always be he who would force himself to think horrid thoughts, which in turn would turn into something greater. At one point, his fury was lashed out on a few pictures along one of the corridors; that was not a day he wants to remember. Meg was standing dangerously close to him, and almost threw the picture in her direction. She was trying to calm him, but he always submerged himself in some other world where darkness shrouded his vision, not even viewing the world he lived in. It took a matter of minutes for his voice to reach her.

Her expression was so painful as he finally realized what he had done. He stomped away, ashamed of his behavior as he locked himself in his room for two weeks...

He was disturbed by the memory as a loud knock echoed in his room. With calculated steps, he approached the door. His hand, laced with visible veins, grasped the golden door knob as he turned it, opening the door slightly ajar.

Madame Giry stood before the door, a tray in both of her hands. Steam rose from the plates that sat neatly upon it.

"Good morning Erik."

Her gaze was a bit welcoming, but always was hesitant when she looked upon Erik. He had changed so much, and it still took her a long time to adjust to the transformation, even if it has been ten years. Erik was aware of Madame's stare, but would never pursue the fact that she could not tear away what he had created when she was still in Paris, and he, in London.

"Good morning." He mumbled, his voice just above a whisper.

He was rather forceful when taking the tray from her, needing the nourishment. Madame Giry's cane stopped the closing door, "Erik, I went to claim the new servant..." She wanted him to be aware that there was a new face in the house, but his thoughts were on the food before him, and the glass of water.

Madame Giry could see the lack of attention that he was providing. She let her cane return to her side.

"Never mind it. Just go and eat, and for god-sakes, get some sleep!"

He never enjoyed the commands she always barked at him. He was Lord of the house, and she would not be the one to control him, but she was a mother, and had all the necessary abilities that came with the job. He did not respond as he closed the door, letting his body go as quickly as possible to another table where none of his papers were scattered about; this was his "dining" table. He was like some sort of creature who had not gone hunting for some time. His prey met a slow and painless demise, not even enjoying the flavor that the cooks always put fourth within his meals.

"I need to finish that song..." He whispered to himself as he wasted no time to rise from the table and to be engulfed by his work once more, not even the thought of sleeping actually coming into play.

* * *

Meg was ever so eager to show the manor to Christine, and at one point, Christine actually let herself enjoy the rooms she explored with the ballet dancer. They had already been shooed out of the kitchen, but that did not stop Meg from having a bit of fun with her friend.

"Let's see, perhaps, we can go into the library!" She added a smile, hoping that Christine was still fond of books.

Her eyes immediately widened at the thought of brushing her fingers along the different binds, or searching through various pages to reach the climatic part of a story.

Meg could not contain the joy she felt at the mere mention of it, although she had mentioned it before, _"She must have not been paying attention..."_ She thought to herself as she pulled her friend down another narrow corridor that were lined with unlit candles; it seemed to be a frequent corridor that was often traveled.

Christine felt like a little girl again, almost pulling Meg along, her feet picking up a rapid pace.

"Slow down Christine! The books will be going nowhere." She chuckled as the brunette just stared back at her.

She was being too rash again. The liberating freedom she had had to be taken in slow doses, not all at once. She was so restrained back at the orphanage, and she was taking advantage of the manor she now occupied.

She bit her lower lip in response, trying to contain the powerful emotion that was welling up inside her.

"You must forgive me again Meg."

Meg shook her head, "It is alright. I am glad you are showing some emotion." She let her finger reach Christine's button nose, touching it briefly, adding to the child-like atmosphere that was forming.

Christine was taken aback from the comment Meg had just made, but everything fled her mind as the flaxen blond took a side step from her and opened two large wooden doors.

Her breath was caught in her throat she saw the wonder before her. The book cases were as large as buildings! All lined with literature that possibly ranged from all the topics the world had to offer.

"Oh my..." Christine took a cautious step into the library, not sure how to react.

Meg was never really fond of books, but she knew that Christine always enjoyed Gothic novels as a child. She was never petrified when it came to the suspenseful moments, and would always allow herself to be swept up in the mild romance. Her mind was a beautiful thing, and Meg felt blessed to be apart of her life, even though they had only been with each other for about eight years, but it was enough to keep the friendship alive, even to this point.

Christine took another step, trying to capture everything in her eyes.

She studied the few armchairs that were provided, seeing the leather stretched along the cozy seats. The three seats that were scattered a few feet from one another were not new in any sense. The color stained chairs had etches of human presence. The leather's once beautiful coat was faded here and there, and a groove seemed to be forming in the center chair, _"I wonder if Lord Erik visits often..."_ She thought to herself as she continued to examine the little lounge area.

A roaring fireplace was etched along the wall, showing the true majesty of a confinement of fire. Vine-like patterns were crafted along the columns of the fireplace, a few blooming roses here and there. The fireplace did not hold a chilling factor, but more of a soothing and comforting aura.

She was so tempted to just sink into one of the chairs and stare at the fireplace, imaging the golden and crimson hues that would come fourth if a fire was lit, but that thought was pushed aside as she moved onto the next thing in mind; the books that surrounded her.

Meg was a mere audience for her, watching as Christine continued her little steps towards the massive shelves that were at least ten times the height of Christine.

The brunette looked over to the ballet dancer, hoping to gain some sort of reply to her stretching fingers, longing to touch the books.

"May I?" She added to her anticipation as Meg nodded, knowing that Erik would not mind a literature lover skimming over his beloved books.

Christine was trying to contain the flooding emotions as she held a single book in her hand. How can a book feel so precious in her hands?

Ten long years without a piece of work from a world renowned author could have driven her to the point of madness, but now, she was here, able to read whatever her heart desires.

She felt her heart pound rapidly in her chest, not even sure how to comprehend the book that she held. It was not in the French language, and it seemed to be made of completely out of symbols, but it was still magnificent. The binding was lined with silver, and the symbols were of a matching shade. She gently opened the book, watching the symbols dance before her eyes. She was so perplexed by the language, but felt as if she could read it. It was a silly thought to even think she knew this mysterious language, but perhaps, she could learn.

_"I wonder if Lord Erik knows of the language...?"_

She shook her head to rid of the thought as she pushed the book back into its proper place.

"I am sure Lord Erik enjoys literature." Meg was startled to see her friend come out of her trance so quickly, especially mentioning Erik's name in such a humane way.

She nodded and drifted over to her curious companion, "I am positive that you are allowed in here, but we would have to ask Mama first, I mean, on your own free time... I am glad you enjoyed it." She squeezed her friend's hand in a compassionate way as Christine smiled sheepishly.

"Thank you Meg. Where to next?"

* * *

The Phantom was indeed a man. He had somehow been succumbed by the thought of sleep, and his body responded, not his mind. Erik's head was caressed by his powerful hands.

A fairly peaceful expression could be seen on the visible part of his face. The man was someone who drove himself beyond the point of exhaustion deserved some peace in his lonesome life.

* * *

_A dark figure was encased all in black, a billowing cape was strapped upon its massive shoulders. The man was obviously breathless. He was searching for something, but for what? The man was reaching hysteria, seeking this lost item, until something stopped him in his tracks._

_"Angel of Music, guide and guardian..."_

_It was a muse, leading him to disaster. His mind told him to stay, but his heart was reaching out to the angelic voice. His footwork started up once more, the Parisian society was beginning to form the vacant space he had just a moment ago._

_Laughter echoed in his ears, seeing cat-like eyes glaring at him, fingers clawing at his cape, trying to stop his journey._

_"Grant to me your glory..."_

_Emotion hit him like a boulder, his soul weeping for the source. He needed to pursue her at all costs, and ignore the cackles of the people who surrounded him._

_He stopped as a vision of ivory consumed his eyes. A petite woman with luscious curves in all the right places caused his heart to stop. The white gown was unfurled around her, pieces of it actually strung about; something had attacked her. Her face could not be seen, but a hand came fourth from the forming mist. Cream-like skin could be seen, beckoning him to come closer. Her fingers were so tempting, as if she could kill him right there with a single touch. He bent down, closer, ever so closer..._

_"Hide no longer..."_

* * *

Erik's eyes shot open in an instant, spilling the vile of black ink all over his final page of the song he had been working on for days.

"Damn it!" He swore at his ludicrous action, knowing that he would have to rewrite it before he forgot the certain notes that he had bled over just a few nights ago.

"Who was that...?"

_[Again, thank you for the great reviews! I hope you enjoy the little dream sequence in here, that matches chapter 3 somewhat.]_


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